


hardly can stand it (i just smile with a lump in my throat)

by justpalsbeingals



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Green Arrow and the Canaries (TV)
Genre: Dinah almost died and Laurel has feelings about it, Episode Tag, F/F, post 07x13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27424039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justpalsbeingals/pseuds/justpalsbeingals
Summary: The corner of Dinah’s mouth twitches when she hears Laurel’s voice, but she quickly schools her face into one more disapproving, like she doesn’t want to be caught smiling at anything Laurel says.Dinah fails though. There’s a hint of a smirk as she replies, “Well, I have to keep up appearances. Especially now that I have this lousy scar.”Or: an episode tag to 07x13, where Laurel visits Dinah in the hospital after her throat is slit
Relationships: Dinah Drake/Earth-2 Laurel Lance
Comments: 11
Kudos: 31





	hardly can stand it (i just smile with a lump in my throat)

**Author's Note:**

> this whole thing stemmed from a desire to see Laurel touch Dinah's scar, so here we have it folks - a fic that addresses how Dinah almost dying made Laurel feel, since the writers sure as hell didn't give us that
> 
> title from Sugar Coat by Little Big Town

Laurel wishes she had just stayed a villain. At least that way, this wouldn’t hurt so damn much. She wasn’t built for this, to feel like this. Everything was easier when Laurel didn’t feel anything at all.

Felicity spent so much time trying to get Laurel to trust people, and now she finally does. But no one told her that with trust comes compassion. Comes caring. Comes caring so much when Laurel hears Dinah is in the hospital, she feels like it was her throat slit by some murderer on a rampage. 

When Felicity tells Laurel Dinah is in surgery and they’re not sure what state her voice will be in, the Earth opens up beneath her feet and Laurel wants to sink down into it. She doesn’t know why the thought of never hearing Dinah’s voice again hits her like a punch to the gut. They’re not even friends, not really. Not yet. But Laurel wants them to be, and the possibility she’ll never get to hear Dinah’s opinion on it makes Laurel’s chest ache. 

Hearing Dinah is in pain shouldn’t hurt like this. It shouldn’t, but it does, and Laurel doesn’t know why. 

(The answer, of course, is Laurel cares for Dinah. Cares for Dinah more than Laurel has cared about anyone in years, but to even think it is absolutely paralyzing.) 

Laurel doesn’t go to the hospital to wait with the rest of the team. She’s not a part of it. But Felicity sends her updates like she could be one day, and for now, that’s enough. It’s enough to know the Star City Slayer didn’t leave lasting damage on anyone else Laurel might be starting to care about. 

When she gets the news Dinah is out of surgery, Laurel can finally breathe again. The concept of Dinah hurt was a thousand pound weight sitting atop Laurel’s rib cage, and the knowledge that she’s okay, already asking to return to the precinct, yanks the mass away.

The rest of the team goes back to daily life, to looking for Oliver’s new sister, to updating security protocols, to stopping another criminal, and Dinah begrudgingly remains inpatient.

That’s when Laurel goes to visit Dinah. When they can be in private and Laurel doesn’t have to pretend she doesn’t care to avoid scrutiny from the team. 

Just as Laurel is about to enter the room, she hears Dinah requesting early release. The nurse sounds exasperated as she explains they are trying to ensure there will be no lasting damage to her vocal cords. Laurel gets the distinct impression Dinah has asked to leave more than a few times, despite the advice of medical professionals. 

“It’s nice to hear you’re still trying to boss people around.”

The corner of Dinah’s mouth twitches when she hears Laurel’s voice, but she quickly schools her face into one more disapproving, like she doesn’t want to be caught smiling at anything Laurel says. 

Dinah fails though. There’s a hint of a smirk as she replies, “Well, I have to keep up appearances. Especially now that I have this lousy scar.”

Dinah tilts back her head to reveal an angry red line across the middle of her throat, and Laurel suddenly finds it hard to swallow. She knew what happened, knew Dinah was  _ this close _ to bleeding out from a gash running jugular to jugular, but seeing the remnants of the injury is something else. Laurel wants to touch it, to soothe the mark. As if that would take away the trauma Dinah experienced. 

It’s the most un-Laurel-like thought she’s had since arriving on this Earth. More unexpected than when Laurel found herself wanting to go out for drinks with Felicity or defending Oliver Queen or willing to work as the D.A. in an honest way. 

This is something different. Dinah, she’s different, and she makes Laurel feel differently than anyone else ever has. Laurel isn’t sure how to deal with that.

Laurel can see the fear in Dinah’s eyes, the way she’s trying to hide what happened to her behind an aura of strength. Laurel wishes she could take it all away. She would be okay wearing any scar if it meant Dinah wasn’t the one sitting in a hospital bed. If it meant Dinah didn’t almost die. 

Dinah almost died. If it hadn’t been for Curtis and a technological prototype, she could be dead. That’s the most terrifying thought of all.

(So terrifying, in fact, Laurel doesn't even poke fun at Curtis's balls. She doesn't have it in her.)

“Eh, scars are hot,” Laurel says, and Dinah lets out a breath that could almost be a laugh. It makes Laurel warm inside. She clears her throat to get rid of the sensation. “You’ll have cadets quivering under you, knowing their captain survived the Slayer.”

Dinah rolls her eyes. Behind the action, Laurel sees the momentary flash of terror at the mention of his name. Laurel wants to kick herself for bringing it up and making Dinah spend even a second thinking about what happened to her.

As much as Dinah can put on a show, can wear a brave face and make everyone else think she wasn’t affected by the experience, Laurel can see through it. Probably because once upon a time Laurel was the person trying to put the fear of God in Dinah. 

Laurel wants to hate how she can read Dinah this well. She doesn’t.

Instead, Laurel feels an uncomfortable hole in the pit of her stomach, because Dinah is hurting from the experience. It’s an unusual and foreign sensation, one Laurel has barely felt before. The dread of a loved one being hurt. 

The way Laurel’s body is reacting to Dinah as if she were a loved one would normally be enough to throw her into full blown panic. She’s only stopped from going off the deep end by Dinah, safe and in front of her. 

Dinah has an eyebrow cocked like she’s about to ask Laurel why she’s here, and Laurel quickly supplies an excuse. “Just because you take time off doesn’t mean I can. I have some questions about the Holloway case.” 

It’s a thinly veiled excuse at best; they’ve already discussed this case at length and Dinah knows there wasn’t anything left out. But she nods and welcomes Laurel to sit in the chair adjacent to her bed. When Laurel sits, Dinah could swear she sees the tension leave her body, like Laurel was concerned Dinah might not let her stay. 

Dinah doesn’t know when she became so cognizant of Laurel’s body language.

For a bit, they forget about the circumstances. Forget Dinah was almost killed and Laurel was compelled to visit her without real reason. It’s nice to have some companionship besides the rotating assembly of medical staff who have been double checking larynx function and blood quantity for three days straight. 

At one point, Dinah catches Laurel staring wistfully at the scar on her throat, the conversation having lulled. 

“Looking at it won’t make it go away,” Dinah comments, and it startles Laurel, like she didn’t even realize she was scrutinizing the mark.

“That’s not what-” Laurel shakes her head, reevaluates her statement. “It doesn’t need to go away. It’s just a scar.” 

Laurel wasn’t looking so intensely because she wanted it to go away. It’s not like she thinks the scar makes Dinah less beautiful, not like Laurel is considering how Dinah looks at all. Rather, she considers how Dinah _feels._ Laurel wishes the scar was never there, that no one had gotten this close to Dinah’s neck and inflicted such hurt upon her. 

There was a time, a while ago, when Laurel would have been glad to see Dinah in this state, but not anymore. 

Her relationship with Dinah has evolved. Laurel herself has evolved. She doesn’t expect Dinah to understand though; she gets why Dinah is sensitive to her leering.

Dinah shrugs, because it is just a scar. But a scar is also a reminder, and this one is on public display. Dinah knows she’s going to get questions about it; she better get used to the mark right quick. She's not the type to show weakness, and Dinah doesn’t plan on letting anyone perceive as much.

At least, anyone else. But Laurel is looking at her like she wants to ask more, and it makes Dinah want to open up.

“Say whatever it is you’re thinking.” It’s not aggressive, even though the words could be. Dinah doesn’t find herself talking at Laurel in that way. Not anymore. Her words are neutral, something akin to kind. She genuinely wants to know what’s on Laurel’s mind.

Laurel’s hand starts to move forward, almost of its own volition, but then it stops, hovering a few inches in the air. “Can I?” Laurel asks, her chin jutting toward Dinah’s neck, and even though Dinah is tempted to say no, to not afford access to this vulnerable part of her body to Laurel, she finds herself consenting. 

The pad of Laurel’s thumb meets the edge of rough, raised skin, and it brushes back and forth in a motion that should make Dinah feel exposed, but, instead, has her at ease. Dinah’s eyes flutter closed, and she leans forward into Laurel. The slightest noise builds at the base of her neck, equal parts sorrow and contentment. It doesn’t escape her mouth, but Laurel can sense it. There’s a low hum quivering against her fingers.

Laurel isn’t sure she knows how to interpret the way this affects her. She feels overbalanced; the scales are about to tip over the edge and Laurel doesn’t know where she’ll land. All she’s certain of is how Dinah nearly dying made her feel: completely powerless and more vulnerable than when she was under Diaz’s grip.

Laurel’s hand withdraws, and with it goes the subdued sensation building in Dinah. She clears her throat, as if that will make whatever just happened disappear. 

To defuse the dense air settling between them, Laurel remarks, “People will think the Black Canary is actually badass now.”

“Oh, and they didn’t before?” Dinah teases back, because this is easier. Whatever this thing between them is, it’s easier when they can cover it with smart repartee and adversarial comments that don’t leave them feeling bare.

Laurel doesn’t answer with words, just a look that’s all brass. It’s a look to which Dinah is well acquainted and which requires no explanation. It’s easier to hide behind this, the attitude they’re familiar with. It makes them both feel less exposed. 

Laurel wasn’t built for this, to feel like this. Dinah has Laurel’s entire world turned inside-out, and Laurel wishes she didn’t care so much. Dinah deserves someone better to care for her. 

Laurel no longer wishes she had just stayed a villain. She wishes she had never been one at all. Maybe then, the person Dinah deserves could be her. 


End file.
